In this week’s episode, we have not one, but two stories from Story Collider’s board member Latasha Wright. This is her fourth story featured on our podcast and her fifth story she’s told for The Story Collider!
Part 1: Biologist Latasha Wright is at work one day when she suddenly begins to experience intense pain.
Latasha Wright received her Ph.D. from NYU Langone Medical Center in Cell and Molecular Biology. After her studies, she went on to continue her scientific training at Johns Hopkins University and Weill Cornell Medical Center. She has coauthored numerous publications and presented her work at international and national conferences. In 2011, she joined the crew of the BioBus, a mobile science lab dedicated to bringing hands on science and inspiration to students from all socioeconomic backgrounds. The BioBus creates a setting that fosters innovation and creativity. Students are encouraged to ask questions, formulate hypotheses, and design experiments. Through the BioBus, Latasha was able to share her love of science with a new generation of potential scientists. Everyday that she spends teaching students about science in this transformative environment helps her remember that science is fun. She loves sharing the journey of discovery with students of all ages. In 2014, the BioBus team launched an immersive, unintimidating laboratory space called the BioBase, a community laboratory model. At the BioBase students are encouraged to explore their scientific potential through in-depth programming and hands-on experimentation. Latasha has lead the efforts in establishing this community laboratory model, and hopes to build on its success in other communities. The efforts of the BioBus’ team to promote science education to all communities in New York City has been recognized by numerous news outlets, including the WNYC science radio program Hypothesis. Additionally, Latasha has been featured as NY1’s New Yorker of the Week.
Part 2: Just before she leaves for her dream opportunity to teach marine science on the Red Sea, Latasha Wright gets a call that puts her plans in jeopardy.
This story originally aired on February 22, 2019 in an episode titled “Inspiration.”
Episode Transcript
Part 1
On June 11, 2019, I woke up with this sense of foreboding. I was like something is not right and I just felt off, you know? Like sometimes you wake up and this is not right. I was like, “Maybe I should stay home.”
But I had a lot of things to do. I had presentations to give, meetings to hold. It was 2019 so all of these things were in person. Shocking, I know.
But I was like, “Okay, I got to go. You got this. You can do this. Go, go.” And so I went to work.
And then I was like, “Okay, but I might not feel well but I'm going to treat myself.” And so I bought some avocado toast and orange juice, thinking I was fancy. Then I sat down at my lab bench and I started eating. and I was like, “Oh, this tastes metallic. There's something weird going on.”
And then I started seeing these invisible confettis all around. I was like, “Oh, my God. What's happening to me?” And I was like, “Okay, is this in my mind? I don't know.”
Latasha Wright shares her story at Caveat in New York City in July 2022. Photo by Zhen Qin.
And then my colleague was in the other row and I was like, “Should I say something or is this like I don't know?”
So I was like, “Okay, okay. I got this. I'm going to go to the bathroom, splash water on my face, push the reset button because I got this today.”
I went to the bathroom, splashed water on my face and then I had this intense pain in my right eye. It felt like someone took an ice pick and was stabbing me in my eye. So then I just started staggering around and I came back in.
And I was like, “Francesca, help.”
And she's like, “What's happening?”
I just want to let you know, like Gastor says, I'm a PhD in molecular biology and I'm a neuroscientist. Francesca's a neuroscientist and she studied migraines.
And she was like, “Okay, you're having a migraine.”
I was like, “No. The pain, the pain.”
And she was like, “No, no. You had a migraine aura and you're having an ocular migraine. It's going to go away in an hour.”
So I started laying down on the table and just crying and crying.
And she was like, “Okay, being a little dramatic. Okay. Maybe you should go home. Let's go home together.”
So we took a cab to my house. I took some Tylenol. I laid down and I was like okay.
She was like, “I'm going to set a timer and it should be over in an hour.”
And I was like, “Okay.”
Then, after an hour, I was like, “I still can't see in this eye.” It was completely dark. And when I opened my eye, it was like this. I was like, “Nope, can't see.”
So then we started thinking maybe it's not a migraine. Let's see.
And I was like, “Okay. Let me get some water because, obviously, I think water is like the elixir of life.”
So I went to the kitchen. I was going to get some water and then my whole left side collapsed. I was holding onto the sink and I was like, “Francesca, Francesca!”
She came in and she helped me to fall to the floor safely and then she called the ambulance.
I live in the Bronx right by Lincoln Hospital so they got here really fast. They came in and they said, “Okay, smile.” Then they had me hold out my hands and they pushed the hands down. And then they were like, “Well, we're not sure what's happening, but we're going to take you to the emergency room.”
And I was like, “Okay, I got this. Fine. I got this.”
So they put me on the gurney and then I'm rolling down the hallways and I'm thinking, “Okay. The emergency room, but I'm in the ambulance so they're going to see me, right?”
So we get to the emergency room and they unload me, put me in the uncomfortable plastic chair, they throw me the peace sign and walk out. And I'm like, “Oh, no.”
In the meantime, Francesca's going crazy. She's texting everybody, sending out the bat signal, “Latasha needs help,” to all of my friends, and, “Latasha's in crisis. Come help me.”
So she went out to the lobby to pick up one of my friends. I'm sitting in a chair and then I started feeling this, again, like something is wrong. And then I started seeing the confetti. I taste the metallic taste and so I try to… “Help, help.”
And this is Lincoln Hospital, one of the busiest emergency rooms in New York City, so they're like, “Yeah, lady. All right. Whatever.” And then I don't remember anything.
This was told to me by my friends. So they came and, apparently, I had gotten much worse. A part of my face started drooping. They did the assessments. Of course, I failed. And it was clear that I was having a massive stroke right in the middle of the emergency room.
So Francesca ran to get a doctor and she was like, “My friend is dying. Help, help!”
They're like, “Yeah, right.”
Then she pulled out her Columbia ID and she was like, “I'm a neurologist from Columbia and I'm outraged.” And she's not a neurologist from Columbia but they believed that.
Latasha Wright shares her story at Caveat in New York City in July 2022. Photo by Zhen Qin.
And so they came and they surrounded me. Of course, like they did assessments and, of course, it was happening right there.
So when I came to, I was laying down and I remember not really being able to see anything. It was like one of those alien abductions of what you hear. You just hear things.
I could hear the doctors over here and I could hear my friends. It was like four my friends and I could hear their voices.
I remember the doctor was tapping me on my shoulder and he was like, “Honey, I need you to lift your left leg.”
And I was like, “Okay, lift. I got this.”
So I was lifting. “Oh, I’ll try.”
They're like, “Okay, honey, lift your right arm.” And I was lifting.
And then they were like, “We need you to lift.”
And I was like, “I'm trying,” and then I started crying.
Then they were like, “Oh, no, it's fine. You don't have to lift.”
And I was like, “Why did you ask me then?”
Then they started asking all these questions. They're like, “Who is going to be in charge of making all of these medical decisions for you?”
I'm like, “I don't know.” Then I said, “Okay, there's four friends. I'm going to pick Pill over Bonnie.”
And they were like, “Pill? Are you sure?”
And I was like, “Why are they asking me if I'm sure?” I'm like, “Yeah, I'm sure. I'm sure.”
Then I was like, “Oh, man. I'm going to have to really tell all my other friends why I picked her over the other.” And I was like, “Ohh, ohh.” But I had to pick her because she's a go‑getter. The other people there were crying and stuff. I could hear them crying and they're rocking. And she's like, “Charge,” you know? That's the Pill that I know.
And I was like, “I need that. I need that energy.”
Then they violate it hardcore. The doctor was like, “How much do you weigh?”
And I was like, “What? What are you going to do? Ask me my age next?” I was like, “I'm not telling you.”
And they were like, “Honey, we need to know your weight so that we can mix up this, give you the TPA to really bust these clots out of your head.”
And I was like, “Okay.” So I gave them a number that was 20 pounds less than I am, because I was offended and they shouldn't have asked me that in front of other people. And they should know that I was going to lie anyway, so add 20 like normal people.
And they were like, “Are you sure,” because they knew I was lying. They knew I was lying. They knew it.
One guy was like, “Listen, I don't think so. Can we get the bed that weighs people?”
In my mind I was like, “Oh, you asshole.” I was like, “Nopity-nope. That's how much I weigh. I know because I weighed myself this morning.” But I was like, “Yeah, I know. I know.”
And they were like, “Okay, okay, okay. Sure. We believe you. Okay.”
So then I was like, “Okay, okay. Fine.”
So then they gave me the medicine. I don't think it worked. My bad. So in retrospect, I realized that I was really ready to risk my life instead of telling my real weight. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm shallow.
Okay. They ended up calling the specialist. Apparently, this guy is like Batman. He goes to different hospitals doing feats of amazingness. So he was like this hot, caring, loving guy who all of my friends fell in love with. They kept talking about him afterwards. They were like, “Let's find him and follow him on Facebook. Let's look at his Instagram.” They just fell in love with him. He was like the trifecta, because he was a nerd and hot.
And they were like, “Latasha, you should meet him. Let's try to meet him again.”
Anyway, so they did the procedure. Basically, they went up my groin, up to my brain and sucked the clot out. Yes, it was great. It was great. It felt amazing. It definitely felt amazing.
But before, he definitely talked to my friends and he was telling them what's happening and they were like, “She might die or be paralyzed for the rest of her life,” but somehow they're still in love with this man. Not sure how that happens. But he did save my life.
I remember waking up the next day. I don't know if it's the next day, but I remember waking up. I was surrounded by my friends and they were like, “Raise your left leg. Raise your right arm. Raise your left leg. Raise your right arm.”
And they didn't say, “Hello”, “How are you doing”, “What's going on”. They were like, “Raise your left leg,” and I was like, “Okay, I'm raising my left leg. I don't know what’s the obsession over my left and right leg.”
But I did and so there was this sigh of relief. Then they were like, “Okay, can you see out of your right eye?”
So then I did one of these, you know? And I was like, “Oh, I can kind of still see out of my right eye,” but there was like a little bit of haze on it but it wasn't completely black, so a big sigh of relief from them. So all my friends got really excited because, obviously, I'm going to be surviving and not paralyzed.
After that, that's where the story, I feel, takes a real big turn because I really was scarred after. So let me set the stage again because I am a cisgendered African-American woman in her 40s, unless I'm on my dating profile, because I'm 35.
Then Francesca is a cisgendered Italian woman in her 30s. And every time a doctor came in, they would say, “How long have you let your cholesterol get out of control? How long has it been? How long have you had hypertension? How long have you had diabetes?”
Latasha Wright shares her story at Caveat in New York City in July 2022. Photo by Zhen Qin.
And I was like, “I don't have any of those things.” It was just so, like they were just coming in. They were asking me these questions without even looking at my chart. If they looked at my chart, they would know that all of these things are normal.
It got to the point that every time a doctor came in, I was trying to tell them and they were trying to tell me I was wrong and I would say I am right. And then Francesca started talking for me, because I just stopped. I kind of shut down and she started talking for me.
She would start saying, “You know, she's a neuroscientist and she's super smart and she knows all this stuff so you need to basically understand that she knows.”
I just stopped talking and it was so frustrating for me. I was an anomaly because I didn't have any of the risk factors to have a stroke at 40 so they didn't really understand what was happening. So I had an aortic dissection. Also, you get these if you are in a car wreck or you have some trauma in your neck.
So then they were like, “Okay, she must have been on a car wreck.” So they kept coming and they were like, “Were you're in a cab?”
I was like, “No, I've never been. I'm not in a cab. I wasn't in a cab. I take the bus because I'm cheap.”
And they were like, “No? Okay. All right. Fine. Who hit you?’
And I was like, “What?”
They're like, “No, you can tell us. Who hit you?”
And I was like, “No one.”
It was just so frustrating because when they saw me, they didn't see who, like all of the things I felt I accomplished and all of my knowledge and all of my past knowledge of myself. They just saw a black woman who maybe not looks like you know Zendaya. And so they were just like, “Oh, this is what she is.”
So they made all of these assumptions about me and who I was without asking and without even looking at my charts. And it made me feel like no matter what, my voice didn't matter. And that I needed somebody who didn't look like me to advocate for myself, for me. It left me with a sense of real deep insecurity, because I felt like I had this ticking time bomb that I didn't know why this happened to me and could it happen to me again and nobody is around to save me or to advocate for me.
I just felt like I was at this point in my life where I just wanted to give up, because I was like, “I've done all of this work to get to this point and I'm still just a stereotype to everybody who sees me.”
They eventually put me back, discharged me onto the floor. Then they gave me physical therapy because I wasn't able to walk well. And then I got a physical therapist. They were telling me I need physical therapy. And also, my insurance wasn't taken at this hospital so they were like, “There's the door. And on your way out, you should talk to the dietitian about your diabetes.”
And I was like, “I don't have diabetes.” But it was just that one last ‘fuck you’, you know, that I felt by the establishment.
It took me about eight months and five doctors before… one doctor was even curious about why I had this stroke at 40, and helped me to understand why it happened and that it probably won't happen again. It took me a couple of months to learn how to walk, to be able to walk for long distances by myself.
But there were some really great bright spots at the end. My brother came to stay with me, which was nice. I had these wonderful friends who set up this calendar, this Google calendar and it was like everybody would sign up to come buy me groceries, come cook for me, come visit me and he called it Latasha's Army.
And I was like, “Okay.” It was so touching. Like you really just don't your impact on the world, especially someone like me who's single, childless, job‑obsessed. I've always wondered what will happen when I get old and can't take care of myself.
And as a lot of black women, we really are scared to go to the doctor. We are scared to be our own advocate. And through this experience, even though I was able to advocate for my mother in that same emergency room, I was not able to advocate for myself.
So what is the antidote to this? I have these group of amazing, smart, diverse, just badass women who are there for me, who have shown that they will give unconditional support of their resources and their time to be with me in my time of need. So I may have lost some of the sight in my right eye, but my vision for the future has not been clearer.
Part 2
I've always loved the ocean, the sights, the sounds, the tastes. You know, when you can take a deep breath and go [inhales] and you have that taste in your mouth. I love that. I love it a lot.
I’m from Mississippi. I’m the youngest of five children. I have four rambunctious brothers. And so when we were young and rowdy, when we got really excitable, let’s just say, my mom and dad would pack us all in the car, just one car, you know, before seatbelts. It’s okay. We’re in Mississippi, it doesn’t matter. And take us all to the beach.
My brothers and my dad would put crabbing lines out to catch crabs and I would just run wild on the beach and go crazy and just kind of primal. I would think about all of the animals in the water and I would fantasize about them. I would think about what they are doing, who were they hanging out with.
And I was obsessed with dolphins. I love them. I thought they were beautiful, they were smart, obviously, just like me. So I wanted to be one. I wanted to be one so bad that I had a dolphin name. And don’t tell anybody. This is a total secret. But I had a dolphin name that was a lot of clicks and whistles, and I made my whole family call me by this name. So don’t tell anybody. I can trust you.
Latasha Wright shares her story with the Story Collider audience at Caveat in NYC in November 2018. Photo by Zhen Qin.
Then that just meant I was going to be a scientist because I was not this Flipper crap, you know, like a real thing.
So fast forward, I did become a scientist and then I started working. I moved from Mississippi to New York. I learned that I was on the bench doing real science and then I decided I didn’t really like it, but I liked talking about science a lot and communicating science. So then I started working at a science outreach organization called the BioBus.
We basically were a couple of hippies. We got together on this 1974 bus and we just kind of went to schools and we’re like, “Hey, guys. Come on aboard.” It’s much more polished now, trust me, ten years later.
Then as we got bigger, we got Laura, we kind of stopped wearing tie-dye every day, people started taking us seriously and I got this opportunity to go to Egypt to do BioBoats on the Red Sea. Actually, when I first thought about it, it was like, “Oh, it’s going to be like a barge.” But when I got there it was a yacht. I was like, “This is what I deserve.”
So of course I had to keep coming back. It was so horrible. I was like, “I’m not sure this is the right outfit. I’m going to come back.”
So it was really a lot of hard work. This is a secret, total secret. Don’t tell anybody. So it was like we outfitted it all and we were ready, so after three years I was ready to go back to launch this boat. So this is really my thing.
Then on February 13, 2007, my mom and dad they woke up together, they had breakfast and then my mom was like, “I’m going to grocery store.” He was like, “Okay.” Then when she came back, my father had passed away. She found him just laying on the floor because he had had a heart attack.
And you have to understand my dad was like this person who was never sick, who was always like, whenever you saw him, he was kind of the macho dude-ish kind of guy. Whenever I was like, “How are you feeling,” he's like, “Well, strong as a horse, baby doll. Strong as a horse.”
My mom was the one who was always sick. My mom had cancer twice, she had all of these things, like in 2005 she was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. At that time when she was diagnosed, the survival rate was 30%. That was ten years ago so it was really like everybody was excited that she was… we were all focused on my mom.
But I remember getting the call because I was in a meeting and my brother called, and he never calls. He just kept calling because I kept cutting. Dismiss, dismiss. Then he kept calling so then I was like, “Okay, this must be something.”
So I went out and I was like, “Hello.”
He was like, “Dad died.”
For me, it was like hit in the head with a sledgehammer. I was like, “But I’m going to Egypt on Friday.”
There was a pause from him and from me because, in my mind, two things couldn’t happen at the same time. I couldn’t have this great thing that I've been working so hard for and a super great accomplishment in my career and my dad dying.
Then he just said, “Latasha!”
And I was like, “Oh,” And things kind of rearranged themselves in my mind and I was like, “Okay, I'll be there tomorrow.”
Then I just spent the next half an hour on the floor of the bathroom crying. Then I’m texting my colleagues and they brought my stuff to the bathroom for me, and then I left.
I got home. I made my reservations for Mississippi and I changed my flight for Egypt from Friday to Monday.
Latasha Wright shares her story with the Story Collider audience at Caveat in NYC in November 2018. Photo by Zhen Qin.
You don’t understand. This is my first time experiencing loss as an adult, because my grandparents had died when I was a kid but it wasn’t the same. I remember thinking very vividly, “Do people really wear black at a funeral or is this like TV?”
So then I threw my black dress, my black shoes in a bag and I went to the airport and I came to Mississippi. Then my brother and my mom were there to pick me up. I remember seeing my mom and my mom looked so fragile. Then immediately things changed in my head and I was like, “Okay. My job is I’m not a daughter here. I’m my mother’s support. I’m helping her through this process.”
And we did all the things that grieving families do. We went in to pick up the casket, we found their right flowers and wrote the obituary, and all that kind of things. We were all together. I had four brothers and they're all married and they all have children, so it’s tons of people in the house and it’s loud. But there was just a voice missing, because my dad was always the loudest and he wasn’t there. So it was like some vacuum that was missing.
So the day of the funeral, when I get there, again, we’re in Mississippi so I’m just going say that so people were saying to my mom, “Oh, I thought you were going to die first.” And she was like, “Me too.”
After the funeral, I come back. I fly back to New York and none of my friends, none of my family could understand why would I do that. Why wouldn’t I take time? Why did I want to go back to this thing that I had planned? The reason why, I'll just be honest, is that I wanted to be Latasha, not Latasha whose dad just died.
I was in the BioBus. As you can imagine, we were all hippies. They like to hug you and touch you, and I didn’t want all the touching and the hugging and all of that. I just wanted to be normal. I wanted to be like it didn’t really happen. So I wanted to go to a place where I could be myself and I could escape this and my dad didn’t die.
So I went to Egypt and it was amazing. The launch was great. There were wonderful children. They were all Egyptian and none of them spoke English. And I didn’t speak any Egyptian but we communicated through like, “Oh, look, oh, ah-ah.” You know, universal language of science, pointing and going like this.
So we did a bunch of plankton tows. It was amazing. And then we also did the universal language of selfies. So we took tons of selfies.
At the end of the day, we went to the back of the boat, because that was prime selfie place, and there was this pod of dolphins that was playing in the wake. There were adolescents, there were moms and dads and babies just doing their thing. They were so beautiful. And I was with all of these wonderful kids who had such a great time and we saw this pod of dolphins and it felt like family.